Back from Hell
by karate0kat
Summary: Spoilers through end of season 3, but slightly AU at the same time. Dean comes back from hell and has one thing on his mind.


This is my first fanfiction ever. It's Dean/Jo pairing from Supernatural. R&R please!

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He hadn't told her he was going to hell.

He knew he should have, but generally speaking emotional moments were something he avoided. It was hard, those last few months especially. They had started meeting up more and more. Used to be if they ended up on the same hunt somewhere they would work together then screw each other blind. It seemed like more and more Dean had been seeking her out just for her company. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with his little brother of course, but there were certain comforts that Sammy couldn't give him. So he went to her.

If Jo had noticed a change in his demeanor she chose not to comment on it. She would occasionally get a certain look, a light behind her eye that made Dean tense up thinking she was about to confront him, ask him questions he desperately didn't want to answer, but in the end she would shake her head slightly, and grace him instead with one of her brilliant smiles. And that was another reason he didn't tell her. Because she didn't know, so she didn't treat him the same way Sam did. Didn't don the sad puppy dog eyes whenever there was enough of a lull in the action to stop and think about the future. He could go to her, laugh with her, get drunk with her, kiss her 'till it bruised, and bury himself in her, and for awhile, for a moment or two, he would forget.

The last time he had gone to see her there had been only two days left. They'd made love, not fucked, it had been to gentle to call it that. He'd held her closer than he usually did. He'd told her he loved her. She'd looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Then reached for the bottle of holy water she kept next to her bed. He'd laughed and kissed her and said it again, and she'd gotten that look again. That look that said maybe she understood more than she let on; maybe she knew that things were far far from well. But the look had vanished in a second, and she'd kissed him back and smiled. She hadn't said it back, but it didn't bother him. She wanted to make sure she meant it when she said it, and that was fine. It wasn't her fault she wouldn't have that chance. She had no way of knowing that she didn't have extra time. Because he hadn't told her. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

And then they'd come for him. That he remembered. The feel of the hound's claws ripping into his flesh. It was months later now, according to Sam. They didn't know why he was back, didn't know how. Though he could remember being dragged there, he didn't remember hell itself. And for that they were both grateful. The two had spent all night getting drunk and stuffing there faces with all Dean's favorite foods. It was the best celebration they could come up with on such short notice. But by the time they'd sobered up, and Sam had gotten all his Chick Flick emotional outbursts out of the way (mostly), Dean had only one other person he wanted to see. Jo.

Sam told him what had happened after. He'd tracked Jo down, not far from where she and Dean had met up days before he was taken. He'd told her that Dean had made the deal, and that they hadn't been able to find an out for him. And Jo had lost it. Completely collapsed in the middle of the dive bar she had gotten a short term job at. Sam had taken her back to her motel room, and they'd both gotten drunk. Piss drunk, for days, maybe weeks. Then they'd started hunting together, but not well. They'd continued getting drunk at regular intervals and became careless, almost suicidal in their stupidity. Bobby had eventually tracked them down and given them a verbal smack down Sam claimed to still be stinging from. Dean didn't' really doubt that.

Jo and Sam had separated after that, agreeing that together their grief was just too overwhelming. Jo had gone to her mom's, and Sam had gone home with Bobby. He hadn't seen her since then, but he kept in touch and knew where she was.

They were traveling there now. He knew they needed to figure out why he was back; needed to know any and all consequences of whatever had happened. But right now, all he could think of was Jo. Jo and Sam had been his last thoughts, and his first. Dean had his brother back, now he wanted his woman.

Jo was once again working at some off the beaten path bar. It was easy to make a fair amount of money in a short amount of time between hunts, and no one really questioned why she kept herself armed around a bunch of drunken men who were bigger than her. Dean smiled, thinking back to an incident last year when one particularly surly and handsy drunk had questioned Jo's ability to use the knife she always had on her. She had been quick to prove she knew _exactly_ how to handle it. The look on the drunk's face, a mix of shock, humiliation, and even grudging admiration, still made Dean giggle.

They waited until closing, slipped in after everyone had been kicked out but before Jo could lock up. She saw Sam first, and smiled an easy, if sad, smile. When her eyes moved back to Dean her face became a mask of shock and the beer bottles she'd been collecting fell to the floor and shattered. She walked towards him, hesitantly, as if she were afraid of disturbing her dream and waking up. Dean held himself still as she stopped before him and reached up first one hand, then the other, gently touching his face, eyes shinning with unshed tears. She caressed his face, a look of wonder in her eyes.

Then she punched him. In the nose. Again.

"You," she said, jabbing a finger into his chest, "You are a complete and total asshole Dean Winchester! I can't believe you made your little brother tell me what you'd done."

She took a deep breath, clearly gearing up for the next onslaught, but she never got the chance. Dean's lips crashed into hers, his arms crushing her tiny frame to his. She kissed him back.

They pulled back slightly, looking at each other.

"I'm still mad at you," she grumbled under her breath, but without any heat behind the words.

"I know"

"You left me," she said accusingly.

"I didn't have a choice," he said softly, sadly.

"No, that's not what I meant. I know you didn't. You did what you did to save Sam, and while it was a complete shithead thing to do it's something I would expect from you. It's just…you left without telling me it would be the last time. You left before I could tell you"

"Tell me what?" he asked her quietly.

She leaned in, brushed her lips against his lightly.

"I love you too".


End file.
